


I'd change the world before I change a thing about you.

by ShuckHale



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Paradise, thominho - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShuckHale/pseuds/ShuckHale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never in his life Minho thought he’d run for fun, and if he could he’d never stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd change the world before I change a thing about you.

Minho stares emptily at a dark spot in the middle of the room, his back resting against the headboard while Frypan snores loudly, the only sound in his ears. He makes it seem so easy just to lie there and fall asleep. On the other hand, Minho doesn’t sleep most nights, just sits there and watches his friend in the other bed across the room. His insomnia is caused partly because of his nightmares, and also because of his loneliness.

It feels odd, Minho’s surrounded by friends and admirers, yet he feels like he depends on someone by his side all the time, someone special. He thinks it’s actually pretty stupid, or maybe he’s just growing older. After everything he’s been through this is all he needs. He cherishes having someone like Thomas has Brenda. Such thoughts have been haunting him since he and the others made it to Paradise.

He gazes at the door ajar, a precaution in case something happens. He must always be prepared in times of troubles, because perfect as it may sound, peace doesn’t always last forever. He’s grappling the sheets sprawled along his lap when a slim, male silhouette appears by the door.

“Thomas?”

“Yeah?” He replies, still standing outside.

“What are you doing there? Sleepwalking?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Come in” Minho invites, so Thomas pushes the door open and enters in the pitch-black room. He sees Frypan sleeping in the other bed and tiptoes closer to Minho. His movements are so slow it takes a long moment until he’s settled down beside his friend. Minho tosses the blankets aside to cover both of them, and they sit quiet for a while.

“What? Brenda’s not delivering the goods?”

“Oh, we broke up a few days ago, so...” Thomas states low, slumping his shoulders. Minho smiles widely, and peeks out of the corner of his eye to study Thomas’ reaction. The boy doesn’t seem to be that upset.

“You’re not here to cry your lovin’ butt on me, are ya?” 

“No, it was a friendly deal. It wasn’t exactly what we were expecting from each other, I think. I do like her, but not like that.” It’s simple, nothing to be stalling about.

Actually, Minho wasn’t expecting it. The couple seemed to fit perfectly at the beginning and somewhat she made Thomas happier in a way Minho thought he never could be able of. And that was enough for the Leader to be okay. Lately though he has noticed how there seems to be nothing more than affection and respect for each other. He’s always been noticing, to make sure Thomas is fine, and deepest in his heart he feels something tugging, like hope.

“I had lots of fun with her, though. Won’t forget that, she was GOOD” Thomas says, a mischievous grin across his face.

“Guh, spare me, please.” Minho makes a disgusted face, mockingly.

“No, really, I’ve learnt a lot from her. Maybe I could teach you.” Thomas reaches over and grasps his friend's face, leaning in a little too lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” The boy screeches between laughs as he dodges his face and whacks Thomas’s hands away. Thomas flinches then, and glances at their sleeping friend a few feet ahead. Frypan is still snoring, nearly falling out of the bed.

“Slim it, dude has a deep sleep. It’s like he dies at night and resurrects in the morning.” He says, and Thomas finds it a morbid thought, but shrugs it off nonetheless “But seriously, I thought you’d want to be with someone.” Minho keeps on, absentmindedly “Man, we’ll have to procreate.”

“Plenty of people willing to do so, not me.”

Me neither, the Asian thinks but doesn’t draw out the words, because he’s not even sure. His heart craves someone despite he’ll never admit it out loud, but he doesn’t have any experiences at this thing of relationships and feelings and it makes him feel at disadvantage. He constantly thinks about the things Thomas has made, the skills he’s gotten so far, how he must be a good kisser and must have held Brenda against his own; his calloused hands touched her everywhere. It’s so ridiculous Minho always ends up cursing at himself. 

“You’ll find someone else, you’ll see.” He mutters eventually.

“I don’t think people like me very much around here. I mean, I make no efforts to make new friends, but I think I’m good with the ones I’ve got.”

“Well, I like you shank.”

“Damn, guess I’m gonna have to date you then.”

“Man, when did you get so funny?” it’s a joke, it always is, Minho’s inner voice whispers in his ear as they laugh silently. He can’t deny he likes this new Thomas a lot more, joyful and undisturbed, just as he likes to think Thomas prefers him being responsible and a little kinder to others.

“Get up, let’s go out” Minho stands up, kind of abruptly, and smiles at his friend who immediately smiles back, because it’s a contagious thing between them. 

Thomas follows suit, and they make it outside to the empty beach, there where the moonlight makes it easier to see each other. The wind sweeps around warmly and the sound of the ocean is like music to their ears. The night is also filled with the sound of swaying palm fronds, and Minho inhales deeply as they stroll side by side, the soft sand tickling their bare feet. 

Minho appreciates these moments, whereas words don’t need to be spoken and they simply enjoy each other’s company. He doesn’t think he can do this with anyone else, because it wouldn’t feel this accurate. Exchanging small smiles and affectionate glances, now and then their hands brush against each other and it goes crazy all the way to Minho’s heart.

It’s suddenly that Thomas charges at Minho and shoves him off hardly to the side. Taken aback, Minho regains his balance before crashing to the ground and hears Thomas laughing, running away from him. 

“Ouch shuck-face, you wanna play? Here I go!” He takes off behind the boy, and chases him at his best speed of a Runner. It doesn’t take too long until he is at his rear and throws his whole body into him, hurling Thomas down to the sand.

Thomas feigns pain as he collapses, but he’s laughing out loud all the same. They roll around a few feet and there’s sand everywhere. They don’t care. They’re having fun. Thomas gets to his feet in a tenth of a second and sprints off once again. 

Never in his life Minho thought he’d run for fun, and if he could he’d never stop. Getting his bearings, he races forward, panting and laughing.

“Come and get me, Min!” Thomas teases, never ceasing his pace.

Minho easily closes the gap between them, yanking Thomas by the back of his t-shirt for a stop. Stumbling backwards, Thomas shrugs him off, and stubbornly throws a hook at the Asian, but he blocks it, taking hold of his bicep. Minho knows Thomas is more than aware he’s weaker than he is, yet Thomas seems to want this. And Minho’s going to give him it all. The Leader tosses Thomas over his head, easily as lifting a plumage.

Thomas braces himself for a painful landing, but Minho doesn’t let go of his arm, instead twisting him back over his shoulder so his feet hit the ground. He wraps his arms around Thomas’s; his back is smashed against his solid chest, and Thomas can feel all his muscles pressed against his body. Minho sticks his face against his and whispers in his ear.

“Getting sleepy already, shank?”

Before he can react, Minho kicks the back of his knee and his butt hits the sand, his arms are swept out from under him and he’s flat on his back. Minho easily pins him, and he’s so close the whole world stops for a while. 

“Get off me,” The words are savored in Thomas mouth, and it sounds like he’s pledging Minho to do the other way around and press him firmer against the ground. Minho smirks, and takes in the image of Thomas breathless and owned under him. 

Thomas eyes fall down to his own chest, where Minho has a heavy hand placed upon, right above his heart that pounds insanely. He stares a little longer, until Minho realizes what he’s really focusing on now. Thomas grips his wrist, and raises his forearm to his sight.

Leaning back, Minho snatches his arm away. He starts scratching the scars around his forearm, from when he was almost set completely on fire back in the Scorch. He has many of those all over his body and so far he hasn’t felt ashamed of them. It reminds him how he got there, how he deserves to be where he is, how he’s qualified to be the Leader. But having Thomas seeing them up and close makes him feel weak, vulnerable.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” He mumbles and rolls to his side, releasing Thomas from his straddle. Sitting now, he doesn’t quite understand why he feels this way. He’s never hidden his scars and he’s pretty sure Thomas has seen them before. God, if it wasn’t for Thomas there wouldn’t be any scars, he’d be dead and gone in a long time. Burned up and ripped apart. 

“It’s okay, man. We all have them.” Thomas reassures him, patting him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Yeah, I just… I don’t want you to see them. I want you to see what’s good in me.” Minho looks down, catching his breath so he can stop himself from speaking. He’s terrible with words, he always lets slip too much, like that one time he couldn’t help but telling Thomas he loved him under their worst circumstance. He shakes his head with a snicker of desperate. 

“Whatever. Never mind, dude. Just forget it, pretend you never saw me crying like a shuck baby or I’ll smash your face.”

“No, you won’t,” A half smile shapes on Thomas’s face. He reaches over and lifts his partner’s chin softly so he can stare into his eyes, deeply into his soul. “Hey. I like you like this. And these,” He grasps his wrist again, tighter this time. “I’m part of these, part of you. I’m the only one who knows the story behind these. I’m also the only one who gets to see you like that, opened up. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, Min.”

He’s still smiling, and it looks so genuine it scares the hell out of Minho. He’s trembling, angry at himself for letting Thomas seeing him this ragged. He tries to form a scowl just so he can show him he’s still tougher than nails. But Thomas is leaning in slowly, as if he expects Minho to push him away. The older boy holds off his breath then.

“Shut your hole, slinthead. Stop, just stop this.” He murmurs but doesn’t move an inch. Thomas nuzzles his cheek, and he can almost taste his fresh breath against his own.

“Still want me to stop?” He doesn’t know if Thomas is teasing or actually asking for permission. Maybe it’s both. Whatever it is, words don’t come out so Minho doesn’t reply, not when he’s aware of Thomas’ face standing so close, and also the heat of his body. Although he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do now, he closes his eyes and just lets it go. So it happens.

Thomas’s lips are soft and hot, and he presses in gently, moving lazily until Minho relaxes into the kiss. It’s way better than he expected and it’s surprisingly easy and arousing. How their mouths seem to be sculpted to fit into each other, and how kissing with tongue is impossibly better.

He’s holding the back of Thomas’ neck as he strokes his hair smoothly. He’s always had a thing for his silky hair, like Minho has always had a thing for him wholly. And now he’s allowed to touch him intimately, to do whatever he wants and all he wants is to be in control, knowing Thomas mutually wants to be controlled. 

Minho deepens the kiss, pushing him backwards with the weight of his body, so they lie haphazardly on the ground. Minho is on top of him and he’s addicted to his tongue now. The more Thomas squirms and moans, the more he kisses him.

“Thomas,” He cries out once they finally break apart for air. He wants to tell him how beautiful he is, and how he’s craved for that moment since the first time he laid eyes on him. Only his mouth is pretty occupied on the boy’s skin, kissing his neck, his shoulder blades, his face.

“Thomas,” He hisses this time, because those calloused hands are now sliding down his torso, underneath his t-shirt, and his fingertips are scratching his six-pack.

They make out for the rest of the night, exploring one another. Thomas kisses his scars, and Minho leaves marks over the tattoo printed on the back of his neck.

Under the stars they fall asleep, snuggled into each other, caressing one another. There are no nightmares this time, and usual as ever, Thomas is put into sleep first. He looks so peaceful and adorable Minho considers not sleeping just so he can stare at him all night long. Thomas shifts then, whatever he’s dreaming of is making him smile, so he tucks his face into the crook of Minho’s neck and, his arm wrapped up around his waist. Minho runs his fingers up and down his back and thanks the gods above for having survived WITH him.

Because otherwise, it wouldn’t be worth it.


End file.
